


this could be us but u playin

by apairofglasses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Sex Magic, also, derek and stiles are hella dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apairofglasses/pseuds/apairofglasses
Summary: “You know I can’t—we can’t do that, Stiles. This isn’t really you talking, it’s the magic. I’d basically be taking advantage of you,” Derek argued, “Look at yourself for Christ’s sake, you’re like 10 percent more desperate looking than you usually are.”“Dude, seriously?” he choked, “Are you kidding me right now? Do you know how much I would give to have had ‘magical intercourse’ be on the table one of the numerous times I saved your ass? Do you know how quickly I would have traded, like, any butt stuff, for holding your fat, comatose ass up in that pool?”Derek was glaring at him now. Clearly the magic had not interfered with Stiles’ unique ability to get under his skin.“Derek, please,” Stiles begged again, “I will gladly trade the awkwardness of one bonk fest with you for the sweet relief of not dying of sex majiks!”





	this could be us but u playin

Stiles was panting and sweating and tugging at his clothes.

“Come on,” he begged, “Please.”

Derek stared at him dumbly. _Only_ Stiles would get hit with some kind of crazy sex pheromone “fuck or die” type of magical horseshit. Stiles whimpered, _actually whimpered_ , snapping Derek out of a haze of “why does this stuff always/only happen to us?” to notice things he was trying _really_ hard not to notice.

Like Stiles’ flushed, supple, body.

Or Stiles’ absolutely delicious sex pheromone smell mixed with his delectable teenage horny boy smell, (which was already a lot for Derek to take on a normal day, to be quite honest.)

Stiles squirmed in frustration on Derek’s bed—where Derek had brought him to keep him **safe** and not at all engage in magically-induced sexual intercourse.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water,” Derek said.

“ _Man_ , I don’t need a drink of water, I just need you to _do_ me,” Stiles moaned. Derek trained his eyes on the floor, refusing to look at the hot (hot hot hot) mess that was currently Stiles Stilinski.

“Come _onnn_ ,” he repeated, “ _Please. **Derek.** ” _

Derek was not proud of his boner at Stiles writhing around getting that magical sex stink in and around his sheets. Why did Stiles need to be such an annoying and terrible person and also probably his only friend?

“You know I can’t—we can’t do that, Stiles. This isn’t really you talking, it’s the magic. I’d basically be taking advantage of you,” Derek argued, “Look at yourself for Christ’s sake, you’re like 10 percent more desperate looking than you usually are.”

“Dude, seriously?” he choked, “Are you kidding me right now? Do you know how much I would give to have had ‘magical intercourse’ be on the table one of the numerous times I saved your ass? Do you know how quickly I would have traded, like, _any_ butt stuff, for holding your fat, comatose ass up in that pool?”

Derek was glaring at him now. Clearly the magic had not interfered with Stiles’ unique ability to get under his skin. 

“Derek, please,” Stiles begged again, “I will gladly trade the awkwardness of one bonk fest with you for the sweet relief of _not dying of sex majiks!_ ” 

“I doubt you’ll _die,_ drama queen,” Derek said, giving Stiles a reproachful look.

Stiles fixed him with his best menacing glare without trying to be sexy. It didn’t work. 

“Derek,” he said, “You are my dear friend and that is why I come with you on batshit crazy missions when no one else will and why I jump in front of sex magic spells meant for you and that is also why you are going to _take care of this problem right the hell now!”_

Derek looked down at Stiles’ half-scowl, half-orgasmic grimace, and felt all of his willpower slip away.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he said.

“About fucking time,” Stiles sighed explosively. 

“How do you want it?” Derek asked, trying to be polite. 

“Right. Now.” Stiles said through gritted teeth. God, he did look delicious.

Cautiously, Derek knelt over him and leaned down to snuff at Stiles’ neck, the fucking intoxicating smell of him going straight to his balls, awakening primal urges he buried deep down inside himself. Stiles went rigid for a moment and then sputtered out a litany of “yesyesyesyes” when Derek mouthed against the hot flesh of his throat.

Derek’s blood was pounding now. He was going to have sex with Stiles. This was happening. He had to get them both out of their clothes. He whipped his shirt off his head and shucked his jeans and socks and then literally _ripped_ Stile’s shirt right off his chest in two pieces. In his head, it was meant to be more of a short-cut considering Stiles’ didn’t entirely have great motor function at the moment but instead Stiles gasped and stared up at him in awe, whispering, “ _Holy shit.”_

Stiles was flushed and freckled all over. Derek leaned down to kiss his belly as he maneuvered the Stiles’ pants and boxers off. Stiles groaned above him.

“Ugh, Derek, the gentlemanly exploring my body stuff is so so so fun and if it were any other time I’d say go ahead and fucking head that expedition, cartograph away, Commodore Matthew Perry, but right now I _literally_ need you inside me.”

Derek paused. If it were any other time? Like Stiles would be interested… even if he _wasn’t_ under the influence of “sex majiks?”

Hold on, wait a minute—

“Did you just compare me fucking you to the opening of Japan?” Derek asked, distressed. He didn’t know, it sounded disrespectful to… Japan, or something.

“STOP BEING SUCH A DORK NERD AND FUCK ME ALREADY!” Stiles screamed, slapping Derek’s bicep.

Derek yanked the lube out of his night table and slicked his fingers. Stiles spread his thighs wide and Derek bit his lip. What an asshole, he thought, but also, _what an asshole_ , if you know what I mean. If only Stiles knew how good he looked right now, splayed out like this, begging and desperate.

He started to finger Stiles open, relishing the way he seemed to meet every thrust with needy little snaps of his hips.

“Fffucckkk, that’s it,” Stiles slurred.

Derek stretched him, working quickly. Stiles was liking it, but it wouldn’t be enough to break whatever the hell curse he was under. Stiles was here, right now, in his bed being the sexiest thing that had ever happened to Derek and Derek wasn’t even super sure kissing him would be and okay thing to do. But, God, he wanted to. Kiss him a million times and then take him out for a date in the Camaro and then—

“Derek,” Stiles whined.

Right. Sex magic.

Derek yanked out his fingers and grabbed Stiles’ thighs, manhandling him forward. Stiles was chanting affirmations and Derek’s ears were buzzing and _oh sweet baby Jesus, Stiles was so tight_.

Stiles _howled_. Derek may have let out a similarly embarrassing noise and it was just the head of his cock pushing past that sweet ring of muscle. Stiles eyes were glassy, pupils blown and his knuckles were white where he was clutching Derek’s bed sheets. His lips were pink and soft and inviting and parted and

Derek thrust forward, filling Stiles to the hilt and pressed his mouth against Stiles’, swallowing his scream of pleasure. Stiles kissed back—enthusiastically—hungrily even, and Derek felt himself getting utterly lost in the sensation of it all. Maybe it wasn’t sex magic. Maybe it was Stiles magic.

Stiles was swearing when their lips parted and he leaned back exposing his throat in a way that kind of looked like a purposeful invitation? Derek accepted. He sucked and licked there feeling Stiles’ pulse and heard Stiles’ say, curiously, “…beard burn… so hot…” in between absolutely guttural, filthy sex noises.

And Stiles was _tight, tight, tight_ and _perfect_ as he fucked him hard into the mattress, knowing he would never get the scent of _Stiles_ and sex out of these sheets.

“Ohhhh, I’m so close, please, please, please,” Stiles was babbling, his fingers finding purchase in Derek’s hair and hey, Derek didn’t know having his hair pulled was A Thing for him but _apparently it really fucking was_. And Stiles was crying out wordlessly now, shivering and shuddering beneath him, gasping, and clutching Derek’s back like he was holding on for dear life, which… maybe he was? Again: sex magic.

It only took a few more seconds (Thank God, because Derek was going to blow it) for Stiles to scream and arch in Derek’s arms and shoot his load all over their bellies. Derek let him ride out his orgasm on his cock before pulling out (to a hilariously disappointed Stiles noise) and jerking maybe twice before coming harder than he ever had in his entire life all up Stiles’ chest.

Stiles was still shivering with the aftershocks.

“Could’a… y’know… left it in there…” he said in between gasping breaths as he finally relaxed into the sheets.

Derek fixed him with a strange look Stiles didn’t catch because his eyes were closed in bliss. Well… he didn’t seem to be dying anymore, so, yay, but they’d have to have a conversation about not dying due to randos shooting loads in his ass without a condom. Thinking about anyone else touching Stiles’ ass made him sad and tired so he picked up his own discarded shirt with shaky fingers and cleaned them both off before rolling the destroyed item of clothing into a ball and throwing it across the room. Stiles looked so content, almost as if he might go to sleep. Derek was wondering if he should leave when Stiles turned onto his side and then peeked at Derek from the pillows.

“Are we going to do the magic cuddling now, or what?”

Derek huffed a small laugh. _Only_ Stiles. He laid down beside him, scooping him into a spooning position that Stiles absolutely melted into. They had been cuddling for a few minutes in silence, when Derek thought of something.

“…Did I hear you say you wanted beard burn because you thought it would be hot?”

“No.” said Stiles.

“Maybe.” said Stiles after a moment.

And then  _very_ quietly, so quietly Derek almost didn’t hear it, “…it _was_ hot.”

Derek turned this, and other things, over in his head.

“Um,” he said, not sure how to broach this topic, “Did… you want to—do this—before the…?”

Stiles didn’t answer him for a while. Then he said:

“Shut up, Derek.”

But Derek kind of knew.

And he kind of hid his smile against Stiles’ warm, freckled back.

**Author's Note:**

> stiles and derek date and are in love but are the last to find out


End file.
